I remember with great clarity my father's emotion when Nelle Reagan, my grandmother, passed away. Until this week, I didn't understand the feeling of loss and pain that comes when a parent leaves you.
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Growing up as the son of first a governor and then a president has not always been easy. During my father's presidency, my life was filled with challenges and personal trials. But the person I could most often turn to was my Dad. He was always there for me when I needed him.
What I will remember is a man who changed my life. He adopted me and brought me into his family. He gave me the Reagan name and a father's love. He also shared with me his deep faith. He pointed me to God.
My father loved God. When he decided to run for president, he didn't do it to be admired. He didn't do it out of selfish reasons or because it is the most powerful position in the world. He did it out of duty. He thought God had called him to run for president, that God had things for him to do.
As Americans reflect on the passing of my Dad, I pray they will remember a man of integrity, conviction, and good humor, a man who changed America, and the world, for the better. He would say the credit goes to others, but I believe the credit is his. When my Dad came into office, the nation was an economic basket case. The morale of the American people was at rock bottom, and our leaders had surrendered to the idea that the Cold War would be a permanent fixture of our lives. When he left office, the economy was booming, we had recaptured our can-do spirit, and the Soviet Union was approaching collapse. My father's legacy includes more than just his accomplishments in statecraft, however. His optimism, as has been widely noted, was contagious. He showed us the shining city on the hill and taught us that we could reach it.
Throughout it all my father never lost his sense of humility, his innate decency, his love of country, and his love of the American people. In an age of incivility, he was a gentleman to the tips of his fingers. In all my life with him, I never saw him do anything to hurt another person. He would have rather cut off his hands than offend a fellow human being.
Above all, my father lived close to his maker. He accepted whatever happened as the will of the Lord with absolute confidence. And he believed that he would receive what he needed to cope with whatever problems arose. This was the source of his boundless optimism.
Many Americans have heard that he rarely attended church while president, and this is true. Because he respected his fellow worshipers at church, he didn't want to interrupt services with a motorcade and swarm of Secret Service officers. He also didn't want to put others at risk should another assassin attack. Instead, my father prayed and meditated wherever he was. He especially liked to worship at his beloved Rancho del Cielo, his "open cathedral," he called it, saying it reminded him of the line from Scripture: "I lift up my eyes to the hills--from whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord."
Today as I joined my family at the memorial services in the Capitol Rotunda, I felt grief at my father's passing. But as I stood over the casket and kissed my Dad goodbye, I was comforted in knowing he is in heaven. The greatest gift he has given me was the knowledge that at 1 o'clock that Saturday afternoon when he closed his eyes for the last time he went to be with his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. A finer gift cannot be given to a son.
